


Phil's Service

by lola381pce



Series: Imagine Clint Coulson Prompts [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Classic Car Owner Clint, Don't Touch Lola, Imagine ClintCoulson, Jasper Knows A Guy, M/M, Mechanic Phil, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 11:02:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10096142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lola381pce/pseuds/lola381pce
Summary: For an anonymous Imagine Clint Coulson prompt:"It's canon that Phil worked on LOLA with his dad. Imagine Clint needed his car fixed/restored and Phil is his mechanic."Thanks for the great prompt, Anon. And to @emyrldlady for Phil’s Service photo and idea for the name. The Mercedes is Jeremy Renner’s car (click on the link in the story to his tweet) and I have a soft spot for Frogeye Sprites, Jasper's car.





	

**Author's Note:**

> We are always accepting new prompts at our tumblr account, so feel free to drop by with a little headcanon or ask.

“So you bought her then? About damn time!” Sitwell chides Clint as he takes a slow walk around his friend’s “new” car, a [Mercedes W113 Pagoda](https://twitter.com/renner4real/status/762829036183773185) casting a critical eye over her.

Owning the classic 1968 280SL has been his dream for… well forever and he’s now at a place in his life where he can finally have one. When he saw this baby for sale, he fell in love… and bought her. No haggling, no pointing out her flaws. Just took her out for a spin with the owner, talked her ear off for almost two hours over coffee, and eventually handed over the cash in exchange for the keys and pink slip. He drove way a happy man.

“She’s not perfect. Missing a right rear hubcap, bodywork needs some care and she has a dent in the front bumper plus she’s not running quite right… sounds like Nick finding crap on his shoe - all growly and mean and not in a good way,” Clint tells him but grin on his face that’s threatening to split it in two makes it clear to the other man that he’s totally smitten and cares not a jot about her imperfections. His friend snorts.

“I know a guy who can help with that,” Sitwell says hunkering down in front of the bumper running his fingertips over it feeling the rough tarnish in the chrome. “Bring her paintwork and bodywork back to showroom condition too.”

“There’s a surprise,” Clint laughs, wrinkling up his nose with amusement.

Jasper Sitwell, his friend for many years “knows a guy” for just about anything. Need a table at the new restaurant that recently opened up - Jasper knows a guy; need the ‘must have’ toy for your kids this Christmas - Jasper knows a guy; need a problem taken care of - well you get the picture. However Clint might just take him up on it this time. He knows already he won’t let just anyone work on the new love of his life.

Besides, Jas has his own classic - a bright red [1960 Austin Healey Frogeye Sprite](http://www.carandclassic.co.uk/car/C838936) which was in need of some serious restoration when he bought her. Nearly three months later after Jas’s ‘guy’ got his hands on her, she’s perfect. Cost a small fortune but he didn’t begrudge it and nowadays Maria purrs like a kitten.

“Text me his details, man,” Clint tells him. “Meantime come for a ride. See what you think.”

Jasper grins at him. “Thought you’d never ask.”

***

Clint pulls up in the parking lot of Phil’s Service. The place itself isn’t huge but it’s immaculate. White painted wooden shingles on the roof and whitewashed walls and there are even a few well-cared for conifers in pots outside. The building has three large roller doors which are all open allowing him to see the large service bay and workshop beyond. They also look spotless. In fact the place looks neater, and cleaner, than Clint’s apartment.

It’s set just off the roadside and has half a dozen classic cars outside - from a 1957 Shelby GT 500 Mustang to a 1970 Jaguar E-Type - all in various states of repair. Jasper’s guy obviously knows what he’s doing which makes him feel more at ease. Not that he thought Jas would send him to some dodgy outfit but it’s good to have it confirmed.

There’s also a mint 1962 cherry red Chevy Corvette which catches his eye. He walks over to look at her; she’s beautiful. Tentatively he holds out his hand to brush his fingers across the smooth paintwork of her front fender when a mild voice from right behind him almost makes him jump out of his skin.

“Don’t touch Lola.”

Clint whirls round to see a guy in his late forties maybe early fifties in a dove grey suit and a pair of aviator shades standing watching him. His hands are tucked into the pockets of his pants and there’s a slight smirk curling up the corner of his mouth. Clint’s heart was racing anyway but now it’s joined by his stomach doing backflips. The guy is kinda hot and giving off a calm competence that does things to Clint in a way that’s probably illegal in several states.

“Uhhh… sorry?” he says with a shrug then barely holds back a facepalm. Smooth Barton. Real smooth he thinks.

“Apology accepted,” the guy tells him, the smirk widening into a warm smile.

Clint frowns. He wasn’t really apologising. Well he was but… who the hell _was_ this guy?

The suit jerks his chin towards Clint’s car. “She yours?”

He nods.

“Start her up.”

“What?”

“Start her up. Let me hear what she sounds like.”

Okay this is getting weird. Seriously who the hell _is_ this guy? Presumably a customer of Phil’s. The owner of the ‘Vette he guesses correctly and apparently one pushy sonofabitch. But for some reason, instead of questioning the command, he finds himself following it; sitting behind the wheel turning the key in the ignition firing the engine into life. At a hand signal from the suit, he revs it a few times then lets the engine idle making a face at the rough engine note and intermittent splutter.

The guy folds his arms across his chest and hunches over a little to listen. His head is cocked to the side and his expression is pained. After a minute or so he gives the universal signal for ‘kill it’ by making a slicing motion in front of his throat. Again Clint obliges and there’s blissful silence again.

“She sounds like a bag of spanners,” he announces, uncurling himself from his stance. “There’s a couple of cylinders misfiring and she’ll need a proper tune-up and service with an oil and filter change at least. Plus her paintwork… not so good. Still, looks like she’s been cared for at some point,” the guy murmurs thoughtfully, giving the SL another appraising look.

Clint’s barely holding back his temper. He was bristling when the suit said she sounded like “a bag of spanners” (even if it is the perfect description) but by the time he finishes insulting his baby, he’s close to knocking the guy on his ass. He doesn’t though. Instead he says stiffly, “Yeah well thanks for your opinion. I think maybe I’ll wait for someone who’s qualified to make that judgement.”

The guy takes off his aviators and holy fuck, his eyes are gorgeous. Clint can feel his stomach do that rolling thing again at the intensity of the gaze he’s being given. Suit guy shrugs.

“Your choice, Mr Barton but… anyone who tells you differently doesn’t know their ass from their elbow and… will probably rip you off.”

At the mention of his name who the guy is becomes clear. “You’re Phil Coulson?”

The smirk’s back and Coulson holds out his hand to Clint who takes it after a brief hesitation. It’s warm and dry and his handshake’s firm but not overpowering. All in all he finds it a pleasant experience.

“Who did you think I was?” Phil asks as he lets go.

Clint ducks head and peers up at the older man. His hand makes its way to the back of his neck where he rubs it self-consciously feeling a warm blush colouring his cheeks.

“Honestly? Some random jerk with a nice car and a big mouth. Your suit kinda threw me. I uh… was expecting oil-stained coveralls I guess.”

“This is a classy establishment, Mr Barton. We don’t wear oil-stained coveralls!” Phil deadpans. If it wasn’t for the mischievous twinkle in his eye, Clint would swear he was being serious. Hell! Thinking of the cleanliness of the service bay and workshop for all he knows maybe he is.

“Look, why don’t you grab a bite to eat across the road. Give me an hour or so to look her over properly and… I’ll give you an estimate for the job.”

Grinning, Clint nods. “Sounds like a plan. Maybe when I come back, you can show me round let me get a feel for what you do here. And the name’s Clint.”

With a slow smile Phil replies. “I think that could be arranged… Clint.”

He’s already decided he’s going to let Phil work his magic on the Mercedes no matter the cost of the estimate however the way the mechanic purrs his name makes the decision even easier. But he’s not going to tell him that… not yet anyway.


End file.
